


Scoundrel's Gambit

by Gefionne



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Adventure and plotting, M/M, Smuggler Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9051442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne
Summary: When an insurgency in a major trade system causes problems for General Hux and the First Order, he must smuggle troopers in covertly to put it down. For that he needs the best smuggler in the galaxy: Ben Solo. Hiring him gets Hux more than he bargained for.





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jesuisbetejesuispatissiere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisbetejesuispatissiere/gifts).



## Act I

“The situation is escalating, General. The cartel has succeeded in suspending mining operations on Syrix Gamma, and it’s hindering all shipments of ore for the Starkiller project.”

Hux looked over the holographic display of a small moon, gaze fixed on the blinking red point in the southern hemisphere where the largest beryllium mine in the system was located. The First Order had taken control of it eight standard months earlier and had increased operations twofold. The ore mined there was critical for the construction of the weapon Hux would use to destroy the New Republic, and a disruption in output was unacceptable.

“When did they move in?” he asked Commander Yerit, who was leading the briefing.

A severe woman with her gray hair drawn back into a style tight enough to pull at the skin of her face, she was the ranking commander aboard, the most senior officer below Hux. “A Syrix local week ago,” she said.

Tapping a command into the display console, she zoomed the planet’s hologram in to a rendering of the topographical map of the mine’s environs. A narrow pass through the mountains was illuminated in yellow. “It appears they came through here from their base of operations. As far as we know, they only have small weapons—blasters, rifles, and a few hand-held plasma cannons—but it was enough to overcome the defenses at the mine.”

Hux held back a curse. He would have stationed an entire battalion of stormtroopers there had it been possible, but the Order’s management of the mine was meant to be secret. They had no official presence in the Syrix System, and being discovered there risked drawing undue attention from the Republic. Formidable as the First Order was becoming, its fleet was still small enough to be challenged. The Starkiller project was meant to change that, but until the weapon was operational, the Order was at a disadvantage.

The secrecy at the mine did not allow for a large force to be stationed there to guard it, and Hux had been forced to accept a few stationary plasma cannons and a small number of First Order overseers for the droid-controlled operations. It was a significant risk, and one that had now caused a serious problem for them.

“Have the cartel insurgents made any demands?” Hux said. “Declared their purpose?”

“In a manner of speaking, sir,” said Yerit. “They identified our communications frequency and recognized it as First Order. They’re not requesting a ransom for releasing control to us again, however.”

Hux nearly reached up to rub his brow—an unfortunate habit that betrayed his agitation—but managed to check himself. “What then?”

“Their only communication was ‘First Order dogs get out,” she said, adding, “Sir,” as a coda.

“I see,” Hux said, clasping his hands behind his back.

There wasn’t much organized resistance to the Order, but as their influence in the Unknown Regions had grown, some pockets had been appearing. Mostly it was small-time cartels and trade organizations with whom the Order had not chosen to work. Deals with the Order were lucrative for greedy crime lords and their ilk, but such associations were made with caution. They had a tendency to backfire in the long run as the cartel goons demanded more and more. Generally, their agreements ended in violence, stormtroopers sent in to decimate the cartels’ operations.

“What do you advise, sir?” Yerit said, looking at him expectantly.

The options were unfortunately very limited. They needed the mine and could not afford to take the time to find another source of beryllium. Control would have to be taken back, but it would have to be done very carefully.

“We send a covert force in,” Hux said. “We cannot afford to make a display of it by deploying troopers. This has to be carried out without any connection to the Order.”

“How do we do that, sir?” asked Commander Edrik, a middle-aged man with the beginnings of a paunch that stretched the fabric of his uniform taught above his belt. “Any ships we send to drop troops, even disguised troops, would be identified easily.”

“Then we do not send our own ships,” said Hux. Turning to his lieutenant, a nervous-looking young man called Mitaka, he gestured for the datapad he held. “I’ve compiled a list of private contractors who have a certain reputation for covert operations.”

“Paramilitary groups?” said Yerit, her heavy brows drawn together in concern.

“Not exactly.” As Hux entered a command on the console, the map of the planet disappeared, replaced by ten images: a variety of individuals, from Cereans to Twi’lek and humans.

“According to our intelligence,” Hux said, “these are the best smugglers in the galaxy. They can get into a system, pick up or deliver their cargo without being noticed, and make it out unscathed. Considering that that is exactly what we need to do to get our troops onto Syrix Gamma, I’m planning on employing a number of them.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, sir?” said Edrik. “Can they be trusted with such a high priority mission?”

Hux looked over the images, focusing on a slightly blurry rendering of a dark-haired human. He had been captured in profile, and though his features were not easily made out, he had a long nose slanting down from a square forehead and full lips that were parted when the image was captured. Hux had looked at his file in detail: Ben Solo; human male aged twenty-five to thirty; planet of origin unknown; record of four cargo and trade violations in the Outer Rim, but never convicted; registered owner of a YT-1300 model light freighter, highly outdated, but apparently still serviceable.

Solo was not the most notorious of all the potential candidates, but Hux considered that something of an advantage. Notoriety didn’t necessarily mean a man was the most capable. In fact, it might be the opposite. After all, a smuggler was meant to operate without notice, not make himself conspicuous.

“Trusted?” Hux said. “No. We will never trust them, but we can use them to our advantage.” He clasped his hands behind his back, squaring his shoulders. “Captain Phasma will issue invitations to them and within a standard week’s time they should be here.”

“You’re giving them the location of the _Finalizer_ , sir?” Yerit said, alarmed.

“Our position is not a secret, Commander,” said Hux, “and I want these smugglers removed from their usual cesspools and put under our jurisdiction. We may need them, but they _will_ know that they work for us and any attempt to swindle the First Order will be met with severe consequences.”

“Understood, sir,” said Yerit. “We’ll prepare for their arrival.”

 

* * *

 

Six cycles later, the situation at the mine was unchanged, and already productivity at Starkiller was lapsing. The report Hux had received that morning contained the details of arrested construction as the beryllium supply dwindled. That would put them far enough behind schedule that Hux would be forced to inform the Supreme Leader, a conversation he did not relish having. If he could manage to retake control of the mine before that became necessary, however, he might be able to salvage the situation. That, of course, was contingent upon the abilities of the ten smugglers due to arrive by the end of the cycle.

He would not need all of them in the end, only three or four. He had designed a test for them, a mission that would require stealth and speed, that they would take on to decide their skill. The first four to return successfully would win the contract; the rest would be dismissed.

He had looked over their dossiers numerous times, but he had no way to judge who the best might be. In general he disliked not being able to anticipate an outcome. He found that it grated on his nerves in a manner he was unaccustomed to. Though he had been outwardly confident about the prospects of this plan, he had his doubts. The sooner the matter was dealt with, the better.

The ping of his comm had him setting down the Starkiller report and taking the call. “What is it?”

“General,” Captain Phasma said, “our guests have arrived and are waiting for you in the conference room in Hangar Four.”

“Very good. I’ll be down promptly.” He almost pressed the button to terminate the call, but then added, “I assume the appropriate security is in place.”

“Yes, sir. They are being guarded.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Hux said and severed the connection.

Rising, he tugged the hem of his uniform jacket to straighten it. He picked up his cap where it sat at the corner of his desk and pulled it over his hair.

The ride to Hangar Four was a brief one. He shared the turbolift with two lieutenants, both of whom fell into silence as soon as he entered. Their eyes went wide and their posture straightened. Amused, he nodded to them and said, “Good afternoon.”

“General Hux, sir,” they said when the lift arrived at their stop. One almost saluted, but seeing that the other did not, she hastened out without another word.

The lift came to a stop at Hangar Four two minutes later, and Hux stepped out onto the floor. In place of the tidily kept First Order vessels that usually occupied the space were ten mismatched ships of various origin. Most were well kept, but none were new. The oldest by far was the YT model freighter docked nearest the main bay door. Hux could not imagine the maintenance that went into keeping the ancient heap spaceworthy. Certainly its owner was well-heeled enough to afford something newer.

Captain Phasma was waiting beside the door to the small conference room as Hux approached. “General,” she said. “They’re waiting inside.”

He could sense the tension as soon as he entered. The smugglers were standing at the very edges of the room, none of them sitting in the chairs at the oblong table, and they were eyeing each other with blatant suspicion. Their weapons had been confiscated upon arrival, otherwise Hux was certain they would have been drawn.

“Gentleman,” said Hux, “welcome aboard the star destroyer _Finalizer_. I am General Hux, and you are here at my request.”

Heads turned to him, gazes penetrating, appraising. He held himself tall, allowing them to make their judgments. He was used to being measured. Young for a general, he had been under great scrutiny by the other members of the Order’s leadership since he had been promoted and placed in charge of the Starkiller project. They did not believe he was experienced enough to handle such a great responsibility. He had proved them wrong, though; his performance had been exceptional and he had been commended more than once by the Supreme Leader. These smugglers were hardly intimidating.

“Well, well,” said a Chiss female dressed in a sleek red bodysuit belted at the waist. Her name was Uta Idkris. “The general himself. I didn’t expect that. Figured we’d be seeing a lacky.” She shot a pointed glance at Phasma.

“I prefer to deal in person when I can,” Hux said. “Especially with those I plan on employing directly.”

She grinned, baring pointed teeth. “You have my attention, General. Not every day the First Order comes calling for the likes of us.”

“That’s true,” said a burly Kel Dor whom Hux recognized as Fils Jaryl. His voice was high filtered through his rebreather mask. “Couldn’t quite pass up that opportunity. You going to tell us what this is all about?”

“Down to business straight away,” Hux said. “I appreciate that. After all, what I am asking of you is highly time-sensitive.”

“How time-sensitive are we talking?” asked Gana Canurta, a blue-skinned Twi’lek male. “Speed brings up my fees.”

“The fee is non-negotiable,” Hux replied. “Two thousand credits upon delivery of the cargo.”

Canurta set a hand on his narrow waist. “That’s a fair bit lower than expected.”

Hux cocked a brow. “You don’t even know what the job is.”

“I don’t work for cheap, First Order.”

“Then you may go,” Hux said, dismissive. “There are nine others who are willing.” He looked around at them. “Unless that fee is also unacceptable to you.”

“Depends on the job,” said one of the human males. He sauntered forward at step, hitching his thumbs in the empty blaster belt slung low on his hips.

Hux looked Ben Solo over, taking his first good look at him. The blurry image in his dossier had hardly done him justice. He was tall, a good two inches taller than Hux, who was not a small man, and broad across the shoulders. His face had a certain asymmetry to it, from his square chin to the crooked set of his mouth. He was a little homely perhaps, but there was something about him that caught the eye and held it.

“Two thousand credits is worth it for a quick run and a small haul,” he continued, “but for something bigger…” He raised his brows. “Or something risky, it’s more.”

“There are inherent risks,” said Hux, “but there will be a bonus for those whose work is most satisfactory.”

Solo crossed his arms over his chest. “Go on then, General.”

“Very well,” Hux said. “The mission parameters are fairly simple. There are ten supply depots in the Outer Rim where there are shipments of weapons waiting.”

“What kind of weapons?” Idkris asked.

“Small arms,” Hux replied. “Unmarked blasters.” The weapons would be for his troopers on the mine drop. All First Order-issue weapons were recognizable, which would not suit the mission.

“Sounds easy enough,” said Canurta. “Nothing we haven’t handled before.”

“Yes, well, that may be the case,” Hux continued, “but in order to get them out, you’ll have to pass through Hutt space.”

Murmurs went around the room.

“The Hutts inspect every ship that comes through their territory,” said Jaryl, the Kel Dor.

“They do,” Hux said. “Fortunately, if you are as capable as you are reputed to be, you should be able to smuggle the blasters through without trouble.”

“How many cases of weapons?” Ben Solo said. “Two or three is one thing, ten is another.”

“A fair question,” said Hux. “You will each be responsible for two cases of twenty blasters. I trust that is manageable.”

Solo tipped his head in acknowledgement. “It is. But it’s easily a three thousand credit job.”

The others nodded, grumbling their agreements.

Hux frowned. “Is that so?”

“I’d expect four for this kind of thing,” Canurta said. “Dealing with the Hutts isn’t simple stuff.”

Hux was well aware that the resources of the Order were not unlimited, and this was only a trial mission, hardly worth forty thousand credits all told. The fee for the actual job would be far higher.

“Twenty-seven hundred,” he said. “No more.”

“Twenty-eight,” said Solo.

Hux narrowed his eyes at the smuggler. He was cocky to negotiate, especially with the Order, but he didn’t do it foolishly. Four thousand from the Twi’lek was too bold. Solo was clever to play off of that and make his fee seem more reasonable.

“Done,” said Hux.

Solo smiled one-sidedly, a look that was very favorable on him. Hux felt the drop of blood from the pit of his stomach toward his groin, an unexpected reaction that he didn’t quite approve of.

“Captain Phasma will provide you with the coordinates of your pick up locations,” he said, keeping himself focused. “You have two standard cycles to complete the mission or you will not be paid. Is that understood?”

The smugglers gave their assent.

“Good hunting, gentleman,” said Hux. With a final nod, he turned on his heel and went out.

 

* * *

 

Hux spent most of the next cycle on the bridge, overseeing the transit of the _Finalizer_ to its next orbit. There were a number of trade meetings that would be taking place there within the next few cycles. The trade ambassador of the First Order, a silver-tongued woman named Phila Namir, had arrived aboard during beta shift and would be sharing dinner with Hux that night. The conversation would be colorful and varied as always, which he was looking forward to. He liked Namir. She was clever and absolutely ruthless when it came to getting the upper hand in negotiations. Hux considered her dedication to the cause just as deep as his own.

There had not been any news from the smugglers since they had departed the cycle before, but Hux wasn’t expecting any communications. He had not requested periodic reports as he might have his own personnel. He recognized the need for secrecy in their work and was willing to allow them to do as they pleased as long as the job got done.

He had once again read over their dossiers in his quarters the night after having met them in person. He lingered perhaps overlong on Ben Solo’s file, studying the image and running it against the picture of Solo in his mind, that lopsided smile in particular. He found himself hoping that Solo was among the smugglers he would be working with on the mine drop, if only to spend a little time getting to know the man better. Had they encountered each other in another place, a cantina on one of Hux’s leaves maybe, Hux would have bought him a drink.

“General Hux, sir, there is a ship requesting permission to dock,” said one of the communications techs.

“One of ours?” he asked.

“No, sir. A Corellian freighter.”

“YT model?”

“Affirmative.”

Hux checked himself before he smiled. Solo was the first to return after all.

“Tell him to dock in Hangar Four again,” he said, “and I will rendezvous with him there. Lieutenant Mitaka, you have the conn.”

The freighter had already landed by the time Hux arrived in the hangar. Its main door was open and four Stormtroopers were carrying two heavy cases, presumably the blasters, down and out. Solo was standing at the edge of the ramp, leaning against one of the supports. His long hair was pulled back into a knot at the top of his skull, though a few errant strands were hanging around his face. He pushed them back with the palm of one hand.

“Mr. Solo,” said Hux, walking over to him in measured paces. “You’ve been successful, I see.”

Solo clapped a hand down on one of the cases as the troopers passed with it. “That’s right, General. Forty blasters, as requested. I checked the stock myself.”

“You weren’t asked to rifle through the cargo,” Hux said, frowning.

Solo shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure it was what the seller said it was. But I didn’t compromise your merchandise, I promise.”

“The promise of a smuggler,” Hux mused. “I suppose that’s worth something, even in a limited capacity.”

“My word is good,” said Solo. “You don’t get jobs if you can’t be relied on to get them done right.” He took a step forward, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked Hux up and down. “And I do things right. Even the easy jobs like this one.”

“You thought it was easy?” Hux asked.

“I grew up flying through Hutt space,” Solo replied. “I know how to navigate it. I could have done this job blindfolded.”

Hux resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Solo was a braggart, which had always rubbed Hux wrong. Despite his own achievements, he had been taught not to make a show of them. He was already disliked enough by jealous peers for what he had accomplished; blatant arrogance would make serving with them even thornier. However, if Solo had the skills Hux needed, he would be willing overlook his attitude.

“I figure it this way,” Solo continued. “This has got to be some kind of trial run. There’s no way it’s the only thing you’ve got planned. You could have hired anyone to do this kind of thing. So, General, what do you _really_ need me to do for you?”

“For that, we will need to speak privately,” Hux said. He looked toward the conference room again. “If you’ll join me.”

Solo’s sly smile returned. “I get you alone?”

Hux eyed him with annoyance, though his stomach tightened in interest at the prospect of a meeting behind closed doors. “This briefing requires it, yes.”

“Then lead on, General,” Solo said as he hitched his thumbs in his belt.

Hux’s boots clipped along the durasteel floor as he strode toward far side of the hangar. Solo followed a pace behind him, putting himself in a position to keep his blaster trained on Hux’s back. If he had his weapon, of course. It was likely a hard habit to break for someone in his particular profession. Hux took no offense. Mistrust was a quality that kept Solo alive when faced with cartels and other miscreants, the scum of the galaxy’s underbelly.

The door to the conference room hissed open as they entered and closed behind them. Hux, clasping his hands behind his back, turned to face Solo.

“Would you like to sit?” he asked.

“Only if you will,” Solo replied.

Hux took the chair at the head of the table, preventing Solo from sitting too close to him. Unfazed, Solo pulled out a chair near the center of right side. He kicked the one beside him out and propped his feet up on it. Hux gave him a scornful look, but Solo only smiled and sat back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So, General,” he said, dragging out the title languorously, “what’s the real job?”

“Transport,” said Hux. “Getting a platoon of our troopers onto the planet Syrix Gamma to put an end to a small insurgency.”

Solo raised his dark brows. “What exactly is a ‘small insurgency?’”

Hux explained, in cursory terms, about the cartel forces that had taken over the mining operation.

“You mean to tell me,” said Solo, “that thirty mercenaries got control of a First Order outpost?” He clicked his tongue reprovingly. “Not quite as put together militarily as you’d like us to think, are you?”

Hux scowled. “We are more than capable. This situation was somewhat...delicate and could not be handled with the customary deployment of stormtroopers.”

“Do tell,” Solo said, that smug grin appearing again.

“The matter is none of your concern,” said Hux. “Your role in this is to get the troopers into position without detection and evacuate. Can you manage that?”

“What are you paying?”

“Ten thousand,” Hux said. He narrowed his eyes, anticipating the counter. “Nonnegotiable.”

Solo rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his chin, pensive. “Are you expecting any hostility? A risk to my ship?”

“Little,” said Hux. “You’ll drop the troopers at the perimeter of the mine and they’ll advance from there. Both you and your ship will be quite safe.” He was surprised when Solo looked somewhat disappointed.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll work for ten thousand, but I want something in addition.”

Hux cocked a brow. “And what is that, Mr. Solo?”

Solo took his boots down from the chair and sat forward, leaning one elbow on his knee. “Well, there’s two things now. First, I want you to come have a drink with me. Tonight, on my ship. And second, you have to call me Ben.”

Hux’s lips parted as he searched for how to reply. He had expected a demand for First Order weapons, connections, or some otherwise useful intelligence. He had not anticipated a request for his company and a gesture of familiarity.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he said.

Solo straightened, tugging at the cuffs of his worn brown shirt. His gaze bored into Hux, eyes flashing with mischief that made Hux’s pulse jump.

“It’s just a drink, General,” Solo said. “And not even my father let anyone call him mister anything.” He blinked once, slow and pointed. “Those are my conditions.”

Hux swallowed, his mouth unexpectedly dry. By all accounts, both requests were quite benign and should have been easy enough to grant in exchange for Solo’s services, but the heated, suggestive way he was looking at Hux gave him the impression that Solo had some design.

“One drink,” Hux said. “And we have it in the lounge aboard _this_ ship.”

Solo shook his head. “Your deal is nonnegotiable. So is mine. You come onto the _Falcon_.” He brushed a strand of hair back from his brow, tucking it behind a large ear. “I’m not planning to hold you hostage, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not going to the bite the hand that’s about to feed me ten thousand credits.”

Hux believed that, though he wasn’t altogether certain Solo wasn’t dangerous. There was something undeniably sensuous about the way he moved and spoke that made Hux equal parts wary and curious. Sitting alone with him in a monitored conference room was one thing; going aboard his tin can of a ship with no way out was another. However, if it was the only way to secure Solo for the drop, it was a chance Hux would have to take. He could always come armed, and he was trained in basic defense and hand-to-hand combat.

“All right,” he said. “I am already engaged for dinner, but I can come to you at 2100 hours. Does that suit you?”

“You’ll come to me,” Solo mused, so absent as to be to himself alone. “I like that.” Looking back at Hux, he grinned, displaying slightly crooked, but white teeth. “Okay, General. 2100.”

Hux rose slowly. “Very good.”

“Very good, what?” Solo said as he stood, leaning his weight into his back leg.

Hux took a deep breath before giving him what he wanted. “ _Ben_.”

“I like the way you say it,” he said. He moved as if he was going to take a step closer to Hux, but he seemed to rethink it and stayed where he was a few paces away. “Have you got a first name?”

“Not one you can use,” said Hux.

Ben chuckled. “I see how it is. You like formality. I can respect that...General.”

Hux looked down his nose at the smuggler. Despite the fact that he allowed none of his subordinates to address him by anything other than his title, he found himself saying, “You may call me Hux.”

“I can do that,” Ben said. The corners of his mouth curled up in a closed-lipped smile. “So, I’ll be seeing you tonight.” He tipped his head toward the hangar bay. “I guess I’m just supposed to bide my time on the _Falcon_. Not really encouraged to poke around your ship.”

“I can arrange a guide to show you around the public spaces if you like,” Hux said. It was a task Mitaka could handle.

“Unless you’re going to do it, I’ll pass.”

“Very well. If you require provisions or other supplies, you can speak to the quartermaster. She’ll see to it you have what you need.”

Ben looked skeptical. “I heard you First Order types eat nothing but nutrient paste. Too efficient for anything else.”

“We have standard rations,” said Hux, “but they are hardly as terrible as that. But if you’d prefer to subsist on whatever you brought with you, that is your prerogative.”

“Fair enough,” Ben said. “I’ve got some stock from my last trip to the Inner Rim. Good brandy, too. Will that be good enough for you?”

Hux had been raised on wine rather than spirits, but he wasn’t opposed to brandy, which was close enough. “It will suffice.”

Ben gave a curt nod. “I’ll just see myself out then.”

“Yes,” said Hux. “Until tonight.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Hux went to dinner with Trade Ambassador Namir, none of the other smugglers had arrived back. They had been given two cycles’ time and it was clear that they were going to use all of it. He tried not to be disappointed.

The meal was lavish, Namir having brought the food with her from whatever planet she had last been on. Hux ate until he was pleasantly full, but never more. He declined dessert, knowing he would get it in the form of a sweet brandy.

“You’re in a hurry to get somewhere,” Namir said as he got up to excuse himself. She eyed him with open interest. “Usually we spend half the night talking before you send me off to my quarters.”

“I have an engagement,” said Hux.

“Oh, I see.” She took a slow sip of her juice. “An evening rendezvous? This is unexpected, Hux. I didn’t think you had it in you. Unless you mean it’s a business matter.” She pouted. “That would be a shame.”

Hux wasn’t in the least inclined to tell her what he was doing. Namir dealt in secrets, and any fodder he gave her would be deposited in her bank of knowledge and assuredly turned against him at some point in the future. He could say that his meeting with Solo was business—in part it was, as it was a stipulation of him taking the job—but Hux knew it wasn’t about that. He wasn’t completely oblivious to someone taking an interest in him, even if it had been some time since it had happened.

“Thank you for joining me this evening,” he said, inclining his head.

Namir waved him away. “Yes, yes. Enjoy your ‘engagement.’”

Hux didn’t own a stitch of civilian clothing, so he didn’t bother to change out of his uniform before setting off for the hangar. It was mostly empty when he arrived, save for the patrol of troopers stationed outside of Solo’s ship. The loading door was still open as if in invitation. He approached it slowly, almost regretting leaving his blaster in his quarters, but he acknowledged the troopers and strode up into the belly of the freighter.

Hux found himself in the cargo bay, which was well lit, but empty. Several meters to the left was a closed bulkhead door, but the passageway to the right was open. He went that direction, looking for a way into the living quarters. He was surprised Ben would allow the ship to be so accessible. If Hux was in his position, he have had it locked down.

“Hello?” Hux called as he moved along the corridor. “Ben?”

There was no immediate reply. Hux continued along, the only sound his boots falling with each step.

“Solo, where the hell are you?” he grumbled.

“Here.”

Hux pulled up short, glancing around him. There was no one there. “I don’t take kindly to tricks,” he said. “Show yourself.”

“I would,” said Ben, his voice still disembodied, “but you’re standing on the access panel.”

Hux looked down at the floor. It seemed solid and unmarked.

“Back up three steps if you don’t mind.”

Hux complied. He watched as the section of metal he had been standing on was lifted up and away. Ben’s dark head popped up from inside, followed by the rest of him. He jumped nimbly out and slid the panel closed behind him.

“A secret compartment?” Hux asked.

“That’s right,” Ben replied, pulling a stained rag from the pocket of his trousers and wiping his hands. “How else do you think I get contraband out of Hutt territory?”

“There can’t be much space down there.”

Ben grinned. “There’s enough. Want to see?”

“No, thank you,” said Hux.

“I guess that’s fair,” Ben said. “I didn’t want to see your ship. You don’t want to see mine.”

It wasn’t to say that Hux wasn’t curious, but he wanted this entire encounter to be over more than he wanted to explore the bowels of a smuggling vessel. “Perhaps I’m just thirsty,” he said.

Ben tucked the rag back into his pocket. “Well, come on then, General. I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

He led Hux deeper into the ship, through a smaller bulkhead door and into a moderately sized lounge area. There was a semicircular bench of seats by a round table on which a full bottle of reddish liquid was standing. Two glasses, both clean, were next to it.

“Have a seat,” Ben said, gesturing. Picking up the bottle, he uncorked it with a pop and splashed three fingers of brandy into the glasses.

Hux accepted one of them as he sank down onto the seat. It was unexpectedly plush. Ben slid in beside him, though he kept a half a meter’s space between them. He raised his glass, and Hux clinked his against it. The brandy was good, rich and dark.

“You like it?” Ben asked, swirling his around in the glass. “It’s Corellian. Hard to come by in the Unknown Regions.”

“It is, yes,” said Hux. “I haven’t had it in many years.”

Ben took another sip. “I never have actually. I always drink whiskey. It’s what my dad brought me up on. Cheap Outer Rim swill.”

“Then how did you come by this?”

“It was part of the pay for a job a few months back. I have a whole case of it. Never broke it out before now, though. It’s not bad.”

“Well, I appreciate the gesture,” said Hux. “I have no particular fondness for whiskey. I imbibed too much once when I was a cadet and have never recovered my taste for it.”

Ben laughed. “Spent the night in the head with your face in the toilet, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Nothing quite like a good bender to put you off drink for a little while. At least until you forget how bad it was and do it all over again.”

Hux hummed in acknowledgement, but said nothing.

“You don’t seem the type for that, though,” said Ben, his brown eyes fixed on Hux even as he sipped at his brandy. “Let me guess...you don’t like losing control of yourself.”

He might as well have plucked the words straight out of Hux’s mouth.

“No,” Hux said.

Ben lifted his arm up over the back of the seats, moving just slightly closer to Hux. “Thought so. So, what do you do when you have a little too much that bothers you so much? Yell? Get in fights? Cry?”

Hux frowned at him. He was unusually perceptive, which Hux disliked. He usually had the upper hand in most interactions, but Ben was managing to keep him on his toes.

It was true that Hux didn’t drink often because of his reaction to it. It wasn’t what Ben had suggested, though. It was that he became amorous. Far too amorous with everyone, including strangers whose beds he had woken up in the next day. He wasn’t about to admit that, however.

“All of it is undignified,” he said. “It loosens the tongue and makes fools of otherwise admirable men.”

“That’s part of the fun,” said Ben, smiling slyly. “You get to know someone’s real nature. What they really think. It’s freeing.”

Hux snorted. “It’s sloppy and impairs judgment. A drunk endears himself to no one.”

“I don’t know,” Ben said, looking at his glass. “I’ve bonded over a drink before. Have a few friends I wouldn’t have without a good night in the bar.”

“Is that why you invited me here for one?” Hux asked. “To ‘bond?’”

Ben drank down the rest of his brandy, something it was far too good for. Hux was savoring his.

“I like to know my employers,” Ben replied. “Understand them if I can. Makes for a good relationship, and that converts to more jobs in the future.”

Hux said, “If you’re looking to get me to hire you again, you are better off performing well on your job than plying me with drink.”

Ben shrugged. “I get that impression, yeah, but I can’t learn anything about you that way.”

Hux was rarely forthcoming with personal matters, especially when it came to disreputable smugglers. But if Ben was willing to offer something in kind, he would find a few inconsequential details to share.

“What do you want to know?”

“How old are you?” Ben said. He picked up the bottle of brandy, poured himself more and offered to top Hux’s off. Hux held it out for him.

“Thirty-four,” he said.

“Isn’t that young for a general?”

Hux nodded. “I’m very good at what I do.”

“And what is that?” said Ben. “Battle plans? Leading troops into the fray?”

“I don’t command from the ground,” Hux said. “I’m responsible for strategy and logistics. I was trained for it my entire life.”

Ben reclined lazily, drumming his fingers on the back of the seat. “I can relate. I was raised doing this.”

“You mentioned your father. He was a smuggler as well?”

“Yep. This was his ship before it was mine.”

“It’s certainly old enough,” Hux said, glancing around at the weathered metal and the worn edges of the table. It had seen a great deal of use.

“Watch yourself, General,” said Ben, though there was no real malice in his tone. “I won’t have someone talking down about the _Falcon_ while he’s sitting aboard. There isn’t a better ship in the galaxy, I can guarantee that.”

Hux could admire a man’s dedication to his ship. He felt the same sort of pride for the _Finalizer_ , the First Order’s flagship.

“Is your father dead, then?” he said.

“No,” said Ben. “The old man’s still kicking, but my mother made him retire. I took over the family business about four years ago.”

Hux drank, letting the brandy slide slowly across his tongue and down his throat. It really was delicious. “Do you enjoy your work?”

Ben smiled broadly. “Absolutely. It never gets old. Do you like what you do?”

“It’s the only thing I could ever imagine myself doing,” Hux said. “I took after my father as well. You might say this is _my_ family business.”

“Well, the uniform suits you.” He looked Hux over again, not bothering to hide it.

Hux resisted the urge to preen under that intent gaze. He had no illusions about his appearance; he had his mother’s delicate features, but his father’s vibrant coloring. He had been looked at with lascivious interest many times in his life, and could shrug it off with ease, but he liked the way Ben was appraising him, offering a compliment without saying a word.

“Do you do this with all of your employers?” he said.

“What?” said Ben, looking utterly innocent.

Hux’s mouth curled up in a wry twist. “Flatter them. Invite them for drinks.” He cocked a brow. “It could be mistaken for a seduction.”

Ben’s eyes darkened. “Could you be seduced, General?”

Hux needed to tread carefully here. It would likely be foolish to pursue any sort of entanglement with Ben Solo, but there was no regulation that kept him from doing so. Ben was a civilian and his contract was temporary. Hux could enjoy his company for the short duration and never have to see him again. It would be an indulgence, and Hux generally did not indulge in anything. However, with the brandy humming through his system and Ben sitting enticingly close, he was feeling permissive.

“I told you you could call me Hux,” he said.

Ben set down his glass and slid over until his thigh was just shy of touching Hux’s. His arm was still over the back to the seat, though now it was behind Hux’s head. “You didn’t answer my question, Hux.”

Hux held up his brandy, placing a barrier between them. “What are you proposing?”

Ben reached up and plucked the glass from Hux’s hand. He discarded it on the table. Hux had little time to brace himself before Ben swooped in and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. His pulse leapt at the light, dry contact.

“My bunk’s just around the corner,” Ben said, his breath a warm gust against Hux’s ear. “You can put me on my knees. Or my back.”

Hux felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. The prospect of Ben’s bare ass up in the air while Hux bent over him, pulling his hair until he bowed up in a crescent and cried out, was as enticing as anything Hux had ever imagined, but it was more than he thought he could take. It had been years since he had properly fucked anyone, and he was afraid that he would lose himself after one or two thrusts, an embarrassment. It would make him look weak, and weakness was not something Hux needed to show someone in his employ. He had to keep the upper hand in this exchange, even if it meant sacrificing a truly piquent opportunity.

“I’ll have you on your knees,” he said, “but it will be here.”

Ben pulled back, looking at him with drawn brows.

Hux clarified: “I want you to suck my cock.”

Ben’s lips parted in a silent “oh,” though it quickly transitioned into a smile. “Yes, sir,” he said. He moved in for a kiss, but Hux withdrew. That was too intimate for this kind of situation. Fortunately, Ben didn’t seem put off. He pressed his lips to the edge of Hux’s jaw, where he had exposed it, and then slithered down toward the ground.

Hux spread his legs, making space for him between them. Ben set his palms on Hux’s knees, squeezing briefly before sliding them up his thighs toward the juncture. Hux shifted down slightly, allowing him to release the button of his trousers and lower the zipper. He reached inside and drew his cock out. He wasn’t hard, but that would be remedied quickly enough when Ben took him into his mouth.

Ben hummed low in his throat as he leaned in. His hand took the place of Hux’s around Hux’s cock, giving him a languid stroke. Hux wanted to let his head fall back, but the desire to watch Ben work was greater. He filled out with each pump of Ben’s hand, each swipe of his thumb over the tip of his cock.

“Perfectly straight,” Ben said, tracing Hux’s length with his fingertips. “Upright and slender, just like you. No curve at all.”

“Is that a complaint?” Hux asked.

Ben looked up and shook his head. “It’s a nice cock, Hux.”

Curling his fingers around the tail Ben’s hair was pulled into, Hux pushed his head down toward his groin. “Then what are you waiting for?” He felt the puff of Ben’s laugh just before the heat of his mouth closed over his cock.

Hux groaned at the swirl of Ben’s tongue on the underside of him, the tender attention to the place where he was most sensitive. Ben stayed there, taking Hux deep, until the tip of his cock bumped the top of his mouth. Then he drew back up with a deep, wet suck, sending shockwaves up Hux’s spine. Hux sighed shakily, pulling at the tie in Ben’s hair until it began to loosen and he could feel the soft strands against his palm.

Ben bobbed slowly, teasing more than trying to drive Hux to the edge. He moved his right hand up Hux’s chest to the zipper at the top of his jacket. He fumbled at it, trying to pull it down blindly. Hux brushed him away and lowered it himself, revealing his black undershirt. Ben fisted the fabric, tugging it up until he could feel the soft skin of Hux’s stomach.

All the while he continued to work Hux’s cock in a steady, languorous rhythm. Hux wanted to demand that he get on with it, increase his pace and bring him off, but drawing it out felt exquisite. He sat back and allowed Ben to do what he wanted.

Ben circled Hux’s navel with his forefinger, dipping into to it and pressing slightly. Hux’s cock jumped in response, revealing an unusual connection between the two places.

“Harder,” Hux said.

Ben sucked enthusiastically, covering Hux’s belly with his hand while he pushed against his navel. Hux closed his eyes and cursed, feeling the beginnings of his orgasm building. Unable to stop himself, he pumped his hips up in shallow pulses. Ben gagged around him, and Hux couldn’t help but revel in the tight closing of his throat.

Sliding his hand down along the line of dark red hair to the base of Hux’s cock, Ben took hold of him and stroked in tandem with the pull of his mouth. Hux stifled the cry in his fist, biting down on his knuckles hard enough to leave an impression.

The pressure was rising, driving him toward the precipice with each brush of Ben’s tongue. “I’m getting close,” he warned. He tugged at Ben’s hair, urging him to draw back so Hux could take over and finish himself, but Ben remained stubbornly in place. Hux never expected a partner to take him to the end, but if Ben wanted to, he wasn’t going to protest.

“Look at me,” he said instead.

Ben turned his eyes up. Hux drew in a sharp breath upon seeing him: his lips stretched wide around Hux’s cock, his cheeks flushed with the effort. A few strands of hair were caught in the lashes of his left eye, tugging when he blinked. Hux brushed them away with his thumb. When Ben leaned into the touch, hungry for contact, Hux gave it, caressing the side of his head and tracing his ear.

“Ah,” Hux sighed, as Ben swallowed him deep. “So good.”

Ben gave a little whine and did it again. Hux started to tremble, every nerve ending in his lower body coming alive. He pushed Ben mercilessly down into his lap, letting the last, tenuous threads of restraint break free. With a growled exclamation, he thrust up and spilled into Ben’s mouth.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he came down from the high, his breath ragged. “Stop, stop,” he said to Ben as he continued to bob steadily, working Hux through his climax.

Ben complied, pulling away and sitting slowly back onto his heels. He looked up at Hux with black, glassy eyes. His lips were pink and plush, his chin wet with saliva. Debauched and well-used, he was stunning.

Hux reached down and cupped his jaw, pressing his thumb against Ben’s swollen bottom lip. He pulled it down just enough to show teeth before releasing it. Ben made no move to wipe his face, seemingly proud of the leavings of what he had just done. It was disgusting, depraved, and despite himself, Hux liked it.

“You should clean yourself up,” he said anyway.

Ben smirked, unoffended. Carefully, he got to his feet, pausing to stand in front of Hux. His groin was just at the level of Hux’s eyes, affording him a view of the outline of an impressive cock against the fly of his trousers. Hux’s fingers twitched with the urge to reach out to him, to pull him in and pleasure him in kind. But he had his upper hand to consider. Maybe, if Ben did very well in his mission, Hux would consider rewarding him with release.

“Go on,” Hux said, dismissive.

Ben turned and strode away toward what Hux assumed was the head. When he had gone, Hux tucked himself back into his trousers and zipped his jacket again. He picked up his brandy and took a long drink.

When Ben returned some time later, he was walking in a relaxed slouch, clearly having seen to himself. At least he had not expected reciprocation. Hux was glad he wasn’t a fool.

Before he could join Hux on the seats again, though, Hux rose. “I should go,” he said. “Thank you for the drink.”

“You’re welcome,” said Ben, one hand in his back pocket. “You can come for another one any time.”

Hux smiled knowingly. “Enjoyed yourself that much?”

Ben took a step closer, though he didn’t move to touch Hux. “My original offer still stands.”

“We’ll see,” said Hux. “First you have a job to do. When the others return tomorrow, you’ll be too busy preparing for drinks.”

“When I get this job done, I want you to come back. Consider it part of my payment.”

Hux lifted his chin haughtily. “That wasn’t what was negotiated earlier.”

Ben frowned. “I’ve never had anyone turn me down.”

“No?” Hux asked, amused. “Well, I guarantee nothing, but if you succeed, I’ll at least come for another drink.”

Ben held out his hand. “I accept those terms.”

Hux put his hand into his calloused palm and shook. “Good evening, Ben.”

 

* * *

 

“The drop zones are here and here.” Hux pointed to two illuminated sectors on the holographic map of the area around the mine on Syrix Gamma. “You’ll land in your appointed place, drop your troopers, and get out unseen. That’s the extent of your mission.”

Four smugglers were standing with him in the briefing room: the Kel Dor, Fils Jaryl; Uta Idkris, the Chiss female; the Twi’lek Gana Cantura; and Ben Solo. The others had been paid and dismissed when they returned from their missions. These four would be doing the drop to the mine. Preparations were being made as they spoke, and the troopers would be ready to move within the next few hours.

“We won’t need to extract the troops?” Jaryl asked.

“No,” Hux replied. “They’ll remain planetside and hold down the operation’s security.” They would be disguised, of course, but Hux wasn’t about to retake the mine only to have it stolen out from under him again by another insurgent cartel in a few months. He wanted a First Order presence there permanently.

“Seems like a simple job,” said Idkris, looking skeptical. “But you’re paying high. What’s the catch?”

“There’s some risk,” Hux said. “You will be flying into a dangerous situation. The cartel has plasma cannons that could do some damage to your ships if you aren’t careful. The pay is for the hazards.”

“Think you can’t handle a little gunfire, Uta?” Cantura taunted.

Idkris shot him a rude gesture. He only laughed.

“How many troopers are we transporting?” said Ben. He was looking over the map intently, ignoring the banter between the other smugglers.

“As many as your ships will hold,” Hux said. “You may fill them at your discretion, but I expect no less than twenty each.”

Ben nodded. “Who’s in command on the ground?”

“Captain Phasma will be overseeing the mission.” Hux had picked her specially. She could handle any situation Hux threw her into. Eventually she would have to be extracted from the planet—she was an offensive commander, not someone who held down an outpost—but she would run this.

“Not you?” Ben said.

Hux’s brows went up. He assumed that he had made it clear the day before that he devised battle plans and did not go planetside. “This matter doesn’t merit my personal attention,” he said.

Ben hitched his thumbs into his belt. “But it would be a good time.”

In all the years he had been serving, Hux had never gone along on the one of the missions he orchestrated. He had been brought up on starships and raised to command. Troopers fought battles, not officers.

“I’ll take you along with me,” Ben continued. “You can see your men in action first hand.”

“I’ll have full holo footage from Captain Phasma,” said Hux.

“It’s nothing like seeing it live. I bet you’ve never done that.”

Hux frowned at him, annoyed that he was pressing this issue. He couldn’t fathom what it mattered to Ben whether or not he was present for the mission. “I will not be joining you,” he said with finality. Turning back to the holo projection, he steered the conversation back to the logistics of the mission.

Twenty minutes later, he had dismissed the smugglers, telling them to expect their trooper cargo within the hour and prepare for deployment at 1400. Cantura, Idkris, and Jaryl went out without a backwards glance, but Ben lingered.

“What do you want?” Hux said as he shut down the display. “You have your orders.”

“Why don’t you want to go?” Ben asked.

“Why is it any of your concern?” Hux snapped back.

Ben sauntered up to him. “I think you could use some time off of this ship. Something to get your hands dirty. And I want to show you what the _Falcon_ can do. I want to take you for a ride.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about your ship’s capabilities. And this isn’t a pleasure cruise.”

“It’s not half as dangerous as you made it out to be,” Ben said. “You wouldn’t even see any action, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not a coward,” Hux said, temper flaring.

“Then come with us.” He smiled. “Come on. It’ll be an adventure.”

Hux glared. “I have enough excitement in my life without your ‘adventure.’ If you’ve never commanded a fleet during tactical combat, you wouldn’t understand the rush.”

“Fine,” Ben said, “but I’m telling you you’re missing out. It’s whole a different kind of rush. Really gets your blood pumping.”

“You have your answer,” Hux said curtly. “Now, get to your ship and get ready to deploy.”

Ben gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir, General, sir.”

Hux watched him go, staring at his broad back. His use of Hux’s title was just another reminder that Hux had no place on the ground mission. Though Ben was right to say it wasn’t as dangerous as he had implied, Hux was indispensable to the First Order. Placing himself at unnecessary risk was irresponsible.

And yet there was a part of him that stirred at the idea. Flying across the galaxy to another system in Ben’s wreck of a ship and putting down covertly was unlike anything else he had done in his life. The sensible decision would be to remain on the _Finalizer_ and wait for Phasma’s report of their success, but apparently Hux wasn’t inclined to make the most sensible decisions when it came to Ben Solo. Yesterday had been proof enough of that.

Hux set a hand down on the table, flattening his palm and then lifting it to tent his fingers. There was a foggy imprint left behind on the durasteel, its edges wavering as the moisture was absorbed into the stale, recirculated air. It had been ten Imperial standard months since he had breathed anything but the filtered, purified oxygen aboard a starship. He had never objected to it, as the spicier, more varied native gases planetside could be an assault on the senses, but he allowed himself to wonder how the air on Syrix Gamma might taste.


	2. Act II

## Act II

A last twist of the leftmost valve should have done it, but instead the vent line blew, spewing condensed gas out into the tiny electrical compartment. Ben cursed, trying to catch the tube, which was flapping wildly around as an angry klaxon bared. This was _not_ the time for the _Falcon_ ’s life support systems to be acting up. At last check, he had all of thirty-seven minutes to get the old bird running before he and his cargo of First Order stormtroopers had to be on their way to some backwater planet in the Syrix System.

The First Order. Ben still had a hard time believing that he was currently docked in the massive hangar—one of many, or so he’d he been told�—of one of their star destroyers. Four cycles ago he had been closing a deal with a couple of droid traders from the Mid Rim and getting ready to spend a few days in the market district of Y’landor. A Chiss bounty hunter owed him a favor and had gotten his name onto the list at Madam Tenir’s. Sure it was a brothel, but it was the expensive kind. He had expected to lie in bed for two days eating fruit and day drinking between rounds of sweaty, loud, much-deserved sex.

But he hadn’t even cleared the traders’ compound when _she_ found him. She had been wearing an unremarkable jacket and battered boots, but that did nothing to hide the shock of white-blond hair or the upright, military bearing. Not to mention that she stood almost a head taller than anyone on the street. Ben could look her in the eye, but it wasn’t by much.

“Ben Solo,” she had said. “You’re a hard man to find.”

He had played at nonchalance, offering her a lazy smile and shrug, but he had quickly looked her over for weapons and gauged whether or not he could take her in a physical fight. Conclusions: she wore a model of blaster at her hip that was common enough, but not well-used, and he could likely overpower her, but it would be a tussle that he wouldn’t come out of without a few bruises.

“What can I say?” he had said, reaching casually to his side to flick the safety off on his own blaster. “I don’t really like company unless it’s expected.”

Her steely gaze never left his face. “I’m here with a message. From a prospective employer.”

Ben cocked a brow. “You don’t look like anyone’s errand girl.”

The corners of her mouth twitched in a fleeting smile, but her expression was schooled immediately again.

“I guess that’s why they sent you, right?” he said. “They wanted to get my attention. Well, you have it. What’s the message?”

“Not here,” she said. “Where’s your ship?”

The _Falcon_ was over in the public docks a quarter hour’s walk away, and he told her as much.

She nodded without hesitation and said, “Take me there.”

“So, ah,” he had said as they made their way down a narrow alley, “you have a name? Seems you already know mine.”

“You don’t need to know it,” she said.

“Right.”

“But it’s Phasma.”

Ben glanced over at her, noting that momentary hint of amusement in her expression. He flashed her his teeth.

She declined a drink when they got the _Falcon_ , remaining on her feet even when he offered her a seat.

“All right, we’ll skip the hospitality,” Ben said. “What can I do for you, Phasma?”

“Are you familiar with the First Order?” she asked, reaching into her breast pocket and drawing out a data drive no larger than her thumbnail.

In that part of the galaxy, the Order didn’t have an overwhelming influence, but they were known. To most of the Inner Rim and Core, they were only perceived as a kind of holdover Imperial cult, loud, but toothless. Ben knew better, though. He had been to the Unknown Regions and seen the power—military and ideological—of the First Order.

“Of course,” he replied. “You’re one of theirs?”

Phasma nodded. “The Order is looking for someone who can get a covert operation done. Discretion is key, but we’ll pay well for it.” She offered him the data drive. “Coordinates for a rendezvous.”

Ben took the drive, tossing it up and catching it deftly. He did some quick calculations in his head. Working with the Order wasn’t going to immediately impact his regular employers, though if word got out that he did this job, it could cause some problems with a few traders from the interior parts of the galaxy. Not that he did a lot of work there in the first place. The outskirts were the realm of smugglers, not the Core. The New Republic didn’t trade much in illegal goods.

“How much exactly are we talking here?” he asked Phasma.

“Enough to make it worth your time,” she replied. “I don’t have the particulars. If you want to hear more, you’ll come to that location at the appointed time.”

Ben rolled the drive between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll consider it. Unless I have to give you your answer now...”

She shook her head. “If you don’t show up, we’ll find someone else who will.”

“Fair enough,” said Ben. “Thanks for the offer.” He paused, waiting to see if she would say more. When she didn’t, he continued, “If that’s all, I’ll see you out.”

He had escorted her off of the _Falcon_ and closed the loading door behind her. He hadn’t wanted to appear eager during the deal, but now he wanted to know what the data drive contained. He had headed to the helm and plugged it into the main computer console. The old machine took a few minutes—and one slap to the display screen—to decrypt the message, but then a set of coordinates and a landing vector appeared. There was no other text or instruction, just the information.

Ben had entered it into the navigation system. It would take him deep into the Unknown Regions beyond an asteroid belt to a quadrant unoccupied by planets. It was a good place to hide a ship or a station.

The computer’s display flashed once more, providing a standard Imperial time and date in addition to the coordinates. Ben had only a few hours to get into the air if he wanted to arrive on time. It didn’t give him much time to think, but he had done most of his reckoning already. If the First Order was going to pay for a job, he was going to take it.

Twelve hours later, he had decelerated from lightspeed in the prescribed location. In the distance was a massive star destroyer, far larger than anything he had seen before. All of the greatest vessels of the Imperial Navy had been decommissioned and sold for scrap after the establishment of the New Republic, so there was nothing to compare to it. The Republic had no military save for a small peacekeeping force for emergencies. Ben had always suspected that that was a poor decision, but as he stared out the viewport at the destroyer, he _knew_ it was.

He had entered the landing vectors he had been given onto the appropriate frequency and waited. It wasn’t a moment before he was hailed: “Vectors accepted. Identify yourself.”

“Ben Solo,” he had replied. “Aboard the _Millennium Falcon_.”

“Confirmed,” said the operator. “You may dock in Hangar Four.”

Ben had moved to sever the connection, but then asked, “What’s this ship called?”

“The First Order Star Destroyer _Finalizer_.”

“Good name,” Ben had said before closing his comm channel.

He had landed without incident in the hangar where he was now, struggling to get the vent line back in place. He pinched the tip of it hard enough to stem the flow of gas, managing to shove it into the port. The alarms died and the air around him cleared.

“That’s my girl,” he said, patting the control panel. The _Falcon_ had been more of home to him than any of the houses he and his parents had lived in throughout his boyhood. He had grown up crawling through the service ducts to get to parts that needed replacing and adjusting fuel pressure or life support. He could have drawn a schematic of the ship from memory, he was sure.

There had never been a question that he would continue to fly her after his father retired. Han Solo hadn’t gone happily into that, but once Leia Organa made up her mind, there was no fighting her. Han had handed the helm of the _Falcon_ to his only son and taken up a life of leisure. That turned out to be building single-seater racers and cleaning up at the local derbies, but it was still considered retirement.

Closing the panel door, Ben pulled himself up out of the compartment. That door closed behind him with a hydraulic hiss, leaving him standing in the starboard passageway between the cargo bay and the living quarters. A glance at his chronometer showed that it was 13:40, twenty minutes before he was expected to deploy with the other three smugglers who were carrying disguised First Order troopers to a mine on Syrix Gamma.

The job wasn’t what he had expected, but that could be said for everything since he had arrived on the _Finalizer_. He hadn’t anticipated being one of ten candidates for the work, and he definitely hadn’t expected Hux.

Generals were supposed to be stodgy officers with salt and pepper hair and the beginnings of a paunch, not stunning young men with a piercing green eyes and fiery hair. Ben hadn’t been able to look away from him from the moment he entered the conference room.

He spoke with a prim, Imperial accent that was far from the native drawl of the Unknown Regions. Each word left his mouth with precision, holding Ben at sharp attention. All thoughts of the perfumed, over-sexed prostitutes at Madam Tenir’s were swept from Ben’s mind. Hux’s long-fingered hands and elegant neck—where it was bared above his severe collar—were driving him to distraction.

The first mission Hux sent them on was a dry run; Ben knew it immediately. Two-thousand-something credits was hardly enough to make anything worth his while, but he was willing to play along if it meant he would get to see Hux again. It was no challenge to get the blasters and return to the _Finalizer_ within a cycle. He knew Hutt space like the back of his hand, and got through their inspections without a problem.

Much to his satisfaction, he had been the first to return. No doubt it would win him the real job, and even more satisfyingly, it had afforded him a private meeting with Hux. Asking him to have a drink with him had been a risk, but one Ben was more than willing to take. He was prepared for resistance, and had received it at first, but with a little perseverance, Hux had agreed to it. Ben had sauntered out of the conference room grinning to himself.

He was prepared for some conversation and maybe a little offhanded flirting (on his part), but what he had gotten was infinitely better. The brandy had loosened Hux’s posture and had him leaning closer to Ben. Ben took full advantage and pressed his luck. He had landed a kiss on the graceful curve of Hux’s neck, tasting the clean, soapy flavor of his skin. Then he had offered his bed and himself.

“I want you to suck my cock,” Hux had said.

Electric arousal had shot through Ben at the command. His blood burning, he had said, “Yes, sir,” and slid down between Hux’s legs.

Hux’s cock was pretty, just like him, and he had tasted musky and delicious. Ben had swallowed him down in long, greedy pulls, wanting to hear that proper voice cracking with need and pleasure. He wasn’t overly vocal, but when he had asked for Ben to work harder, told him it was good, Ben had been set alight.

Hux had come with a broken groan, thrusting his cock up as the warmth of him pulsed onto Ben’s tongue. Ben took it all. When it was over, Hux had turned his gaze down. His cheeks were tinged with pink and his undershirt was bunched around his middle where Ben had pushed it up to feel the softness of his belly. Ben lingered there for a moment in the aftermath, rubbing his thumb into the dip of Hux’s navel.

Ben was achingly hard, staring up at Hux and wanting nothing more than to strip him down to nothing and explore the rest of his body. Hux dismissed him, though, telling him to get cleaned up. Ben had stood slowly, offering Hux a clear view of his erection, before retreating to the head.

With Hux’s taste in his mouth, he had pulled his cock out and within half a dozen strokes was coming into his free hand. It was hardly enough to sate him, but he was content with it. He enjoyed giving pleasure almost more than receiving it, and watching Hux come undone had been beautiful. He would gladly bring himself off in hurried, brusque strokes if it meant he could have Hux again.

The general had set his uniform to rights again when Ben returned to him, the picture of discipline once more. Ben moved to sit again, but Hux rose, excusing himself.

“When I get this job done,” Ben said, stopping him, “I want you to come back. Consider it part of my payment.”

Hux had given him a imperious look. “That wasn’t what was negotiated earlier.”

“I’ve never had anyone turn me down,” Ben had said. He may not have been as pretty as Hux, but when he set his sights on someone, he was usually able to seal the deal. He chalked it up to the Solo charm, which his father had taught him the same way he had taught him about maintaining the _Falcon_.

Hux had smirked at him. “No? Well, I guarantee nothing, but if you succeed, I’ll at least come for another drink.”

That, in the end, was enough for Ben. At least it would give him the chance to try to coax Hux into his bed. He wanted Hux’s long, slender cock inside him and he didn’t plan to give up until he had it.

That was difficult to put out of his mind when he saw Hux the next cycle in the conference room. The three other smugglers who had returned the fastest—after Ben, of course—were there with him, all of them being briefed on the Syrix job. It was going to be quick and simple, though it was something Ben had never done before.

He wasn’t sure what inspired him to suggest that Hux come along on the mission with him, but the words were out of his mouth before he could think to stop himself. He had refused him firmly, but Ben hadn’t missed the flash of interest in his eyes.

A proximity alarm sounded, pulling Ben’s attention back to the present. He jogged toward the cargo bay, hitting the release to lower the door. Outside was a group of thirty troopers, though they were barefaced and dressed in plain, unmatched clothing. At their head was Phasma, armed with one of the blasters Ben had retrieved.

“Captain,” he said. “Riding with me?”

She nodded curtly. “We’ll be taking the lead.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Ben. He gestured toward the interior of the freighter. “Welcome aboard.”

The troopers marched up the ramp in ranks. Ben hoped they wouldn’t stay in them when they arrived on Syrix Gamma. It would give them away easily.

When they had all come aboard, Ben moved to close up, but he heard a call of “Wait!” He recognized the red hair immediately, though the uniform was gone, replaced by a pair of tan trousers and a green shirt. Hux jogged up to the edge of the ramp, stopping just shy of it.

“What brings you here, General?” Ben asked, setting his hands on his hips.

Hux gave him a stern look. “I’ve decided to oversee the mission. You offered to have me join you. I’m taking you up on your offer.”

Ben grinned. “Then come on up. I have a place for you in the cockpit.”

Hux strode up toward him, looking him in the eye. “Lead on, then.”

The troopers, including Phasma, snapped to attention as Hux passed them. He didn’t acknowledge them, simply followed Ben through the hold and into the passage.

“Can you fly at all?” Ben said when they got to the cockpit.

“Basic maneuvers,” said Hux, “but it’s been years.” He shot Ben a glance. “Am I expected to be your copilot?”

“No need. I’ve got this bird under control.” He swung around into the leftmost seat and took hold of the controls. “Sit, General and get ready. You’re in for a ride.”

Hux took the seat beside him, sitting up straight and folding his hands in his lap. “So you said before. I feel as though if we make it through this, it will be a feat in itself. I’m shocked this ship still flies.”

Ben patted the console. “She doesn’t just fly, she soars.”

“We’ll see,” Hux said, sounding unconvinced. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said. He initiated engine fire-up and the _Falcon_ shuddered to life. Setting the appropriate frequency, he hailed the tower. “Requesting clearance to take off.”

“ _Millennium Falcon_ , you are cleared.”

“Acknowledged,” said Ben. He flashed Hux a smile. “Brace yourself, General.”

Hux all but rolled his eyes, but he grasped the arms of the chair. Ben hit the throttle and the ship was off in a flash, leaving the hangar behind and shooting out into open space.

“Easy, Solo,” said Jaryl over the comms, “we’re coming up behind you.”

“What?” Ben taunted. “Can’t keep up?” He laughed when he got a grudging rumble in response. “Get ready to go to lightspeed.”

“Go on,” Gana Cantura said. “We’re ready.”

Ben didn’t hesitate. He hit the hyperdrive and the _Falcon_ took wing in a blur of stars.

“Well,” he said once they were well away, “what do you think, General? Duly impressed?”

“It can move, I’ll give you that,” said Hux, “but it has yet to prove itself during the drop. If you can deliver the troops without detection and get out unscathed, then I will consider being impressed.”

Ben sighed, rubbing his hands along his thighs. “You’re a hard man to please, aren’t you?”

“Well, you have the ability to please me,” Hux said, narrowing his eyes slyly. “Or don’t you remember?”

The blood in Ben’s stomach dropped directly to his cock. He lowered his voice and said, “Are you interested in knowing what else I can do? We have an hour of flight time before we get to Syrix.”

Hux huffed a laugh. “You’re very eager, aren’t you?” He turned in his chair so he could look at Ben properly. “Been working too much to find yourself a good lay?”

It _had_ been a while, but it wasn’t about that when it came to Hux. Ben would have wanted him even if he had just crawled out of bed with someone else.

“You didn’t seem to mind the eagerness last night,” Ben said.

“I never said I minded it,” said Hux. “It was just an observation.” He ran his fingers along the edge of the armrest, drawing Ben’s gaze to the elegant fingers, neatly trimmed nails. Ben could imagine what they would feel like inside him, working him open.

“Well,” he said, “maybe it has been a few weeks.” _Months_. “But I didn’t suck you off just because I’m desperate for it. I wanted to.” He reached across and traced Hux’s narrow wrist. “I want to do a whole lot more.”

Hux smiled. “Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Ben said bluntly and without hesitation.

“Yes,” said Hux, “but I have a feeling you are much more imaginative than that. What would you have me do before? How would you touch me?”

Ben could think a hundred things he could do, each more lascivious than the next, but there were simple things, too, that he craved. Sliding his fingers under Hux’s he lifted his hand. “I’d start here,” he said as he massaged the palm with his thumb, “at the tips of your fingers.” He drew the hand up to his lips and pressed the fingerpads to them. He kissed each one in turn, speaking as he did it. “I’d taste the fingers one at the time, run my tongue up each knuckle, until they were wet and glistening. Then I’d drag them down my chin, my neck, my collarbone, until I got to my chest. I’d circle each nipple with them until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“You’re sensitive there?” Hux said.

“Very,” said Ben, touching the tip of his tongue to Hux’s middle finger. “Are you?”

“Not particularly.”

“Where then?”

Hux pulled his hand away from Ben’s mouth, moving down until he could catch Ben’s wrist. He drew it across the space between them to the side of his neck. “Here.”

Ben brushed the soft skin there, wanting to leap over and kiss it, nip it, mark it. “Then I’d put my lips there while you touched me. I bet you bruise easily.”

“I don’t like marks,” Hux said, though he tipped his head to the side to give Ben better access to his throat. “Not any that can be seen anyway.”

“I’ll be careful,” said Ben. “But you shouldn’t be. I want to know you’ve had your mouth on me.” Hux swallowed; Ben felt the muscles move under his palm. He grinned. “You like that idea.”

“It has a certain allure,” Hux said. “What else would you do?”

Ben shifted in his seat to relieve some of the pressure between his legs. He was getting hard, hoping this might be leading somewhere. Carefully, he moved his hand up under Hux’s chin and up to his lips. “I’d kiss you. Deep, long.”

“Are you a skilled kisser, Ben?” Hux asked, his breath hot on Ben’s fingers.

“I’d like to think so. Want to find out?”

Hux smiled, close-lipped. “Perhaps later.”

Ben tried not to be disappointed. But maybe ‘later’ meant a few minutes. He doubted it, though.

“What would you have in mind for me next?” Hux said. “After the kiss.”

“More,” said Ben. “Everywhere. Your shoulders, your chest, your stomach.” He brushed his hand down over the buttons of Hux’s shirt. “I like your stomach.”

Hux wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“It’s soft. Perfect to touch.”

“Calling me soft is not flattery,” Hux said.

Ben chuckled. “I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m trying to get you to come to bed with me. But if you need to be flattered to get you there, though…”

“Hardly,” said Hux. “And we’re in the middle of a high priority mission for the Order. I’m not going to sleep with you now.”

Ben slid his hand down into Hux’s lap, feeling the very obvious erection. “We don’t have to leave the cockpit. You can bend me over the console right here.”

Hux’s eyes flashed dangerously, the hunger plain in his face. Immediately, Ben reached for his belt, going to stand.

“No,” said Hux. “Not like this.”

Ben suppressed a groan. “Why not?”

“If I take my cock out,” Hux said, frowning, “I plan to use it properly. You’ve just said all the things you plan to do to me. I expect to receive all of that and more.”

“Then you’ll have me?” Ben said, his stomach tightening.

Hux crooked his finger, beckoning Ben closer. Ben went willingly, until he was just a scant few centimeters from Hux’s face.

“I’ll consider it,” Hux said. “If you’re very good.”

Ben cocked his head, moving in toward Hux’s lips, but Hux, smirking, pulled back. Ben sighed. “Then what are we going to do for the next three quarters of an hour?”

“Do you play Dejarik?”

“I do,” Ben said. “My uncle Chewie taught me.”

Hux made a face. “What manner of name is that?”

“Wookiee.”

“Oh,” said Hux, looking somewhat shocked. “Wookiees are banned from playing competitively, aren’t they?”

“Yep,” Ben said. “They tend to maim their opponents if they lose.”

“I suppose you never beat this uncle of yours, then?”

Ben smiled. “Sure, I did. He just knew if he did anything to me, my mother would make a rug out of him.”

Hux laughed, an unusually bright chuckle for so stern a man. Ben liked it very much; he wanted to hear it more.

“Very well,” Hux said. “Shall we play?”

“Yeah,” said Ben. “Come on.”

 

* * *

 

Hux was good, Ben discovered. He played more defensively than Ben had expected, but it was a solid strategy against Ben’s strong offensive moves. That had always been his weakness. He engaged aggressively and sometimes backed himself into a corner. He was just realizing he had done exactly that when the computer announced that they were approaching the Syrix System.

“I’ve got to pull us out of lightspeed,” Ben said. “Finish the game later?”

“Certainly,” said Hux. “May I accompany you to the cockpit again?”

Ben grinned. “Want to see the _Falcon_ in action? It’s going to be a good show.”

Hux looked as though he was going to dismiss the matter again, but to Ben’s surprise, he said, “Yes. I’m intrigued by this ship. It’s a relic, but if what you say is true, if can outperform the newer vessels the others have.”

“You’re damn right,” Ben said. “She can take any ship, any day.”

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Ben got to his feet, offering his hand to help Hux up. Hux shot him a disdainful glance and rose without aid. They made their way to the cockpit and took up their respective chairs. Ben entered a command into the console and brought up the communications frequency with the other ships.

“This is Solo,” he said. “Get ready to come out of the hyperspace. Acknowledge.”

Cantura: “Ready.”

Jaryl: “Go.”

Idkris: “Say the word, Solo.”

“All right,” said Ben. “Coming out now.” He pulled back on the lever to disengage the hyperdrive. The stars came back into focus as a large planet loomed before them. It had three wide rings and a surface dark with large land masses.

“I see the central continent,” Hux said. “The mine is located on the eastern coast.”

“Yeah, I was in the briefing,” Ben said. “I have the landing vectors.” Hux glared, making Ben laugh. “You just sit back and enjoy the ride, General. Everything’s under control.”

He checked the computer’s coordinates for the landing zone one more time before hailing Idkris, who was going into the zone with him: “Uta, you ready to go?”

“Ready on your count, Solo,” she replied. “Lead the way.”

“Let’s do this,” he said. He throttled up and started the descent through the thin atmosphere. The wind and heat lit up the windows of the cockpit, bathing Hux in red light that matched the flame of his hair. Ben watched him out of the corner of his eye as he flew, though as soon as the ground began to come into view, he focused on the landing.

Several thousand meters below, he could see the deep pit of the strip mine and the massive equipment used to ferry the beryllium out for processing. There were a number of buildings scattered around the area, but most were small and unobtrusive.

The landing zone was a half-kilometer from the main operation, keeping the ships a safe distance away from the plasma cannons the cartel insurgents were now in control of. The _Falcon_ had a few guns and a decent shield, but it was hardly equipped to take heavy fire. Ben fully intended to stay out of the mess, drop the troopers and get out.

Speaking of, he tapped the internal communications button. “Captain Phasma, are you and your men ready to disembark?”

“Affirmative,” she said.

“Good. Be prepared to touch down in four minutes.”

“Isn’t that coming in a little fast?” Hux asked.

Ben took a long look at the landing zone. “It’ll bring us in hard, but you wanted speed, right?”

Hux said, “I’d like to come out of this alive.”

“You will, General,” said Ben. “Me and this old girl will take good care of you.”

He took over the manual flight controls, easing the ship down. A fine, black powder blew up as they landed, dusting the transparisteel of the cockpit.

“What is this stuff?” he said.

“Byproduct from the mine,” said Hux. “There are strong winds that carry it for kilometers and sometimes up into the lower atmosphere.”

“Doesn’t that affect the climate or something?”

Hux shrugged. “There’s barely any organic life here. We did surveys. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What about for the troopers?”

“They have masks. After all, there’s a low concentration of oxygen here. They would suffocate without them.”

Ben tried to remember if his rebreathers were still in good shape. It had been a year or more since he had used them. Most of the planets he worked on were habitable.

“Feel like taking a walk, General?” he said.

Hux eyed him. “Go out with the troopers? I don’t see the point. It’s not part of our mission.”

“Don’t want to see your mine?”

“We’re certainly not going there,” Hux said, scowling. “We’re not equipped for combat.”

Ben got lazily to his feet. “At least come outside with me. Stretch your legs.”

“Why are you so set on this?” Hux asked, rising as well. “It shouldn’t matter to you.”

“Just curious,” Ben replied. “Come on, let’s watch your troopers deploy.”

He strode out of the cockpit and aft. He could hear Hux following him, quick steps catching him up. He paused only for a moment to grab the rebreathers and toss one to Hux. He pulled the clear mask over his nose and mouth and powered up the module connected to it. Pure oxygen flowed into the mask, cool and smelling antiseptic.

When they arrived in the cargo bay, the troopers were standing at the ready, their own masks in place and blasters out. Phasma was standing at the front of the pack, ready to lead them out.

“Depressurizing,” Ben said, his voice muffled slightly by the mask. He grabbed the door release handle and pulled it down. The outside atmosphere hissed into the bay through the door, jets of gas shooting down just inside the door. With the opening came black particles that swirled into the hold. Ben tried not to think of how long it was going to take to clean and decontaminate the ship. He would have it professionally done and send the bill to the First Order.

Phasma paused before going down the ramp to glance back at Hux: for permission maybe, or just as an acknowledgment.

“Good hunting, Captain,” he said.

She took a firm grip on her blaster and faced the terrain beyond the door. “Company with me,” she said as she jogged out.

The troopers followed her, leaving Ben and Hux standing at the rear of the hold, watching as more black dust blew in. It ground like gritty sand against the durasteel floor as Ben walked toward the ramp.

The planet’s surface was barren, the dark ground broken occasionally by cones of rock. The lights from the mine could be seen just over the far ridge, but the facility itself was hidden from view.

By all accounts, Ben’s part of this job was done. He could shut the door, take off, and head back to the _Finalizer_ , but he lingered, leaning against one of the struts that lowered the ramp. Hux stood to his right, hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the landscape.

“How long’s it been since you’ve been on solid ground?” Ben said.

“More than a year,” was Hux’s quiet reply.

“Where’s your home planet?”

Hux kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. “Arkanis. A rain-drenched backwater that once used to house the Imperial Academy. There’s nothing there now.”

“I’ve heard of it,” said Ben. “In the old stories about the Empire. How long did you live there?”

“Until I was sixteen,” Hux said, “then I was sent to train aboard star destroyers. I’ve spent more time on them than I did planetside.” He glanced over at Ben. “I’m not particularly nostalgic for _terra firma,_ if that’s what interests you. I’ve visited a number of worlds, but I prefer my ship.”

Ben patted the strut next to him. “So do I. I was born on this ship. My parents took me to Hosnian Prime and told everyone I was a native, but they didn’t actually get back to the hospital in time. I came out in the bunk I sleep in now.”

“I’m not sure if I find that endearing or somewhat disgusting,” said Hux.

“Yeah,” Ben laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure if I know which one it is, either. But it’s the biggest bunk on the ship, so I figured I might as well use it.”

“That’s very practical.” It was difficult to make out Hux’s expression behind the rebreather mask, but Ben could have sworn he was smiling.

Ben was about to ask him about the first destroyer he served on, but the sound of blaster fire and shouts echoed in the distance, though not as far away as he would have expected. Hux heard it, too; he immediately tensed, as if straining to see into the darkness over the rise.

“They shouldn’t have been engaged this closely,” Hux said. “Not unless there was some kind of patrol to run into.”

“It would make sense to have them,” said Ben. “If these cartel goons could take over the mine, they would probably be clever enough to set up security patrols.”

Hux took a step toward the edge of the ramp. “This could compromise things. I need to get in touch with Phamsa.”

“I don’t have her comm frequency,” Ben said. “You didn’t give it to me.”

Hux cursed. “Then we need to go see what’s happening.”

Ben’s brows shot up. “You want to go out there? I thought you didn’t do ground missions.”

“I don’t,” Hux snapped. “Not normally, but we’re here and I need to apprise myself of the situation. We just need to get to the top of the ridge and we should have a good vantage point.”

He moved to go, but Ben reached out and grabbed his arm. “You need a weapon. We’re not going out there unarmed.”

When Hux nodded, he hastened back up to the compartment where he kept his small arms for emergencies. They weren’t anything impressive, but they would be enough to fight off a few cartel men if it came down to it. Returning to Hux, he held one of them out.

“You know your way around one of these?” Ben asked.

Hux checked the power cells and released the safety with practiced familiarity. “I _am_ a soldier,” he said.

Ben held the blaster up at the level of his chest. “All right, General. Let’s go.”

There was a light wind blowing as they left the _Falcon_ , bringing up more of the black dust. Ben blinked against it to keep his eyes from stinging. He walked alongside Hux, who was striding toward the hill. Ben gripped his blaster tightly. It had been years since he had actually had to fire on someone. He kept his skills sharp at a range he stopped at every so often, but he wasn’t practiced like a cartel mercenary would be.

His instincts told him to run, leaving the planet behind before he put himself in danger, but he didn’t want to leave Hux alone. He had insisted the general come along on this job, and he couldn’t just let him go off on his own while Ben fled.

As they came up on the crest of the hill, Hux knelt down and then sank onto his belly. He crawled the last few meters to the top. Ben glared down at the ground and the white of his shirt, but, resigned, got down on his belly as well.

Flashes of blaster fire filled the valley below, mixed with cries from those who had been struck. It was hard to tell the troopers from the mercenaries in the murky darkness, until a flare went up, illuminating the night sky.

“I count ten cartel men on their feet,” said Hux. He pointed to the left and down. “They’re just beyond that outcropping. They have good cover. Phasma’s men don’t.”

From what Ben could see, the troopers had no cover at all, and were taking heavy fire. Unless they took down the mercenaries soon, they would be losing men fairly fast.

“They need to flank them,” Hux said.

“They can’t,” said Ben. “Not without being seen. They’ll just be picked off as they try to come around.”

“Dammit. You’re right.” Hux shimmed forward another half meter. “How good of a shot are you?”

“Good. Why?”

“We’re going around to hit them from behind.” Without another word, he rolled to his feet and broke into a brisk run toward the mercenaries’ position.

“Hells,” Ben cursed as he scrambled up to follow him.

They slipped and slid down the hill on the black sand, and Ben was sure the shifting of it would give them away, but the mercenaries were still too far and too engaged with the troopers to notice. He nearly collided with Hux when he stopped short.

“Ten paces ahead,” Hux whispered in his ear. “You go left, I’ll go right. Hit as many of them as you can in thirty seconds. If they start to fire on us, run.”

“This doesn’t sound like a great plan, General,” Ben hissed.

Hux leaned back and gave him a hard look. Ben saw the command in it and didn’t bother to protest further. He understood why men followed Hux if he looked at them like that: giving no quarter and expecting the same of his soldiers.

Lifting his blaster, Ben took off on the path he had been ordered to take. Hux darted in his own direction. Ben started as another flare went off, making his heart stutter. By the white light of the flare, he could see the mercenaries maybe ten meters ahead of him. He skidded to a halt and leveled his blaster at them.

Hux’s first shot picked off a man at the edge of the group. The second the man beside him. The third shot missed, but sent three men to the ground to dodge it. Ben fired at them, hitting one man and then another. One howled and clutched at his leg. Ben shot him again and he went still.

Ten seconds: five shots. Twenty seconds: seven shots. The last ten seconds ticked by, and Ben lined each of his final shots up carefully. There were six mercenaries left standing, though Hux took one more down as Ben counted. They were turning and trying to return fire, but they were having trouble with their aim as the light of the last flare died out. It meant, of course, that Ben couldn’t see, either, but he took a last couple of shots where he thought the men might be and was rewarded with a yelp of pain.

“Enough!” Hux called from his position a few meters away. “The troopers are advancing. We’re done here.”

Ben fell back, climbing the hill in long strides. He met Hux at the apex again, both of them pausing to look down into the valley. The troopers had arrived at the mercenaries’ outcropping and had no doubt put the rest of them down. Ben caught his breath, which he hadn’t noticed was coming in hard pants.

Hux stepped close to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well done.”

Ben nodded. The adrenaline was still coursing through him as they stood there, making him feel bright and alive. It was with some reluctance that he said, “Are we going back to the _Falcon_?”

“Yes,” Hux replied. “Phasma can no doubt handle it from here.”

Ben didn’t doubt it, either, though there was a part of him that wanted to follow the troopers to the mine and see what other trouble they could stir up. But from the way Hux was looking back toward the _Falcon_ , he knew their part of the battle was over.

The harsh light of the cargo bay illuminators brought the sorry state of both of their clothes into sharp relief. Their shirts and the fronts of their trousers were black with the sand, and Hux had a stripe of gray down the side of his face. It wasn’t urgent, however, so Ben would have to see to it after they had gotten underway.

He closed the bay door on his way to the cockpit, removing his rebreather as he did. He dropped it and his blaster unceremoniously on the Dejarik table and moved on. Hux joined him in the copilot’s seat as he powered up the engines.

A quick ping of the sensors showed that Uta and the others had already gone. The _Falcon_ was the last vessel on the planet.

“Setting course for the _Finalizer_ ,” Ben said as he keyed in the coordinates.

Hux braced himself, though he was still slammed hard back into the seat as the ship accelerated, jumping into the air and piercing the atmosphere in less than a few seconds. Within a minute they were in low orbit and racing away from Syrix. Ben checked his navigational computer once more, then engaged the hyperdrive.

He let his head fall back against his chair, sighing, once they were safely at lightspeed. The high of the firefight was dying down, though he was still keyed up. “I need a drink,” he said.

“I could use one myself,” said Hux, turning to Ben. “Do you still have that bottle of brandy?”

“Sure do.” Ben peeled himself out of his seat and swept past Hux toward the lounge.

It took only a little shuffling around in the galley to retrieve the bottle and two cups. They were tin rather than glass, but Ben assumed Hux wouldn’t mind. He poured three fingers into each and pushed one into Hux’s hands.

“Cheers,” Hux said, though Ben was already drinking.

He drained the cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Hux wasn’t being delicate about his drink, either, downing it much as Ben had.

“A little nervewracked, General?”

Hux held out his cup for another dose. “A little perhaps. But it’s not all bad.”

“That’s true,” Ben said as he poured. He didn’t bother to fill his own cup, but took a pull straight from the bottle.

“Uncouth,” Hux muttered.

Ben grinned. He watched as Hux took a sip of his brandy. His green eyes stayed focused on Ben, though.

“To hell with it,” Hux said as he slid the discarded rebreather out of the way to make room for his cup. He abandoned it on the table and came to Ben in two long strides. His arms slipped around Ben’s neck, fingers lacing behind it to cradle the back of his skull, and then he was kissing him.

All of Ben’s attention snapped immediately to the demanding press of Hux’s mouth. His lips were soft and parted slightly as he held Ben to him, but there was nothing hesitant or gentle about the kiss. Hux nipped at Ben’s lower lip, pulling it between his teeth. Ben opened his mouth and breathed in Hux’s warm exhale.

“Fight got your dander up, General?” Ben said against Hux’s lips.

Hux retaliated with a hard kiss. “Do you always talk this much?” he growled. Ben could feel the vibration in his chest.

“You liked hearing me talk before,” said Ben as he landed a peck on the corner of Hux’s mouth. “Telling you all about what I wanted to do to you.”

“Yes, well,” Hux said, “I have a few ideas of my own.”

Heat coursed through Ben’s veins, making him aware of every place Hux was touching him: his fingers wound tightly in Ben’s hair, their hips and thighs pressed together. Ben slid his hands down to cup Hux’s ass, kneading the muscle as he brought Hux closer. Hux was hard against him, moving his hips in shallow pulses.

Ben moved to meet him, an open invitation. “Come to bed and you can do whatever you want.”

Hux’s smile was dark, predatory. “It doesn’t involve the bed.”

Ben tensed. He wasn’t about to be teased into a frenzy and then left to fuck his own hand in the refresher again. Tightening his grip on Hux, he said, “Where?”

Hux’s immediate answer was the warm push of his tongue into Ben’s mouth, slick and tasting of sweet brandy. Ben opened for him, taking him in greedily. He wasn’t expecting it when Hux yanked his head back and trailed kisses down his throat. He sucked hard at the join of Ben’s shoulder, no doubt leaving a bruise. Ben groaned into it.

“Where, Hux?” he demanded.

“As you suggested before,” Hux said, each word punctuated by his lips along the open collar of Ben’s shirt, “the cockpit.”

“Hell yes,” Ben said. He could see himself watching the blurred whirl of the stars beyond the viewport as he was pushed down onto the console by Hux, who stood behind him, taking him. “I’ll meet you there. I need to get—”

Hux moved his hand around to Ben’s face, cupping his cheek. “Don’t make me wait.”

Ben nearly stumbled as he fell back a step, but he managed to recover and turn toward his quarters. The lubricant he sought was in the drawer beside the bed, and he counted himself lucky that there was still more than half left in the bottle. He didn’t use much when he took care of himself, but he did it often.

His bootheels fell hard against the durasteel as he jogged through the passages to the cockpit. He had been given his instructions to hurry and wasn’t about to disobey the order. When he rounded the corner into the cockpit, he was breathing hard, half from the run and half from the anticipation. At first glance, the space looked empty, but then he caught sight of the boots sitting behind the pilot’s seat. A pair of trousers and Hux’s besmirched green shirt were lying over the arm of the copilot’s chair. Ben’s stomach clenched.

“Don’t tarry,” Hux said from his place in the pilot’s seat. “I’m not a patient man, Ben.”

Ben came around carefully. He knew what he was about to see, but it didn’t stop the little gasp that escaped him when he laid eyes on Hux. He was completely nude, his bare skin stark white against the old leather of the chair. His legs were spread wide, and while one hand lay on the armrest, the other was around his cock, working it in slow, lazy strokes. Ben gaped, awestruck.

“I trust you have what we need,” Hux said.

Ben lamely offered the lubricant, still unable to keep from staring. Hux seemed amused by his floundering. He took the little bottle from Ben and set it on the edge of the console. When he turned back to Ben, his eyes were alight.

“Are you going to take your clothes off,” Hux said, “or am I going to have to undress you?”

Ben considered that prospect for a moment, trying to imagine what it would be like to have Hux peel away his filthy clothes, touching the skin he bared. It would be excruciating to wait, perhaps too much for this time, when both of them were still feeling the effects of their encounter with the mercenaries.

With shaking fingers, Ben pulled his shirt from the waist of his trousers and lifted it over his head. He cast it aside, along with Hux’s clothes. His boots came next, untied only halfway before he tugged them off and dropped them. He was fumbling with his belt then, the buckle clattering open.

“Give that to me,” said Hux, holding out a hand.

Ben pulled the belt from its loops and dropped it into Hux’s palm. Hux snapped the leather with both hands, making Ben flinch and pause with his fingers poised at the fly of his trousers.

Hux blinked at him impassively. “I’m not going to hit you. Unless you’d like me to.”

Ben shivered. “Not...not now.”

“Very well.” Hux flicked the loop of the belt toward him. “Go on then, pants, too.”

Ben made quick work of his trousers and undergarments, pushing both down and stepping of out them. His cock bobbed as he took a step toward Hux, giving him a clear view of all Ben had to offer.

“Will this do, General?” he said, standing for appraisal.

“Turn around,” Hux said, “and we’ll see.”

Ben bit his lip, hesitating, but then spun so that his back was facing Hux. He started as he felt two cool hands on the backs of his thighs, running up to the curve of his ass. Hux spread the cheeks, exposing Ben to him.

“Hells,” Ben hissed as Hux pressed his thumb against his entrance. Hux made a delicate circle there, but didn’t seek to push into him.

“Oh, yes,” Hux said. “You’ll do very well.”

Ben felt his cock jump at the praise. “Thank you, sir.”

Hux made a low humming sound. Ben hoped it was approval.

“Fold your arms behind your back,” said Hux. “Hold your right elbow with your left hand. Opposite on the other side.”

Ben did as he was told. Less than a second later, he felt the touch of leather around his forearms. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Restraining you,” Hux replied. He wrapped the belt tight, but not enough to cause him pain.

“I thought you wanted me to touch you,” said Ben.

“And you may. When we’re finished here. I plan to have a long shower, if you’ll join me.”

The shower cubicle aboard the _Falcon_ had barely enough space for one, so there was no doubt Ben would have the opportunity to get his hands on Hux there. And he was curious about what Hux was planning for him now. He had never been tied up before.

“I will,” he said.

Hux stroked his back below the place where his arms were bound. “Good. But you’ll have to earn it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Another caress, this one lower. “Bend over.”

Ben did, though not far enough to fall forward. He heard the snap of a cap and then there was a cold wetness at his ass. Hux spread the lubricant until it warmed.

“How long has it been since you’ve had someone inside you?” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Ben, shuddering at each pass of Hux’s fingertips. “Six months, maybe more.”

Hux clicked his tongue. “Then I’ll have to take my time with you, won’t I? Unless you like it to hurt.”

Ben didn’t mind a little pain, but he wanted to know what Hux taking his time would feel like. One finger to start, twisting deep before he added another and used it to spread Ben wide.

“Which is it?” said Hux.

“Slow,” Ben said, “but you don’t have to be gentle about it.”

Hux’s chuckle was throaty. “I’m never gentle, Ben.”

Ben cried out as Hux penetrated him with two fingers. He pulled against the belt that kept his arms held fast, wanting to brace himself against the console. He settled for spreading his legs wider.

“Good boy,” Hux said, tracing the inside of Ben’s thigh with his free hand. The other he used to fuck Ben steadily, giving him both fingers up to the knuckle. “Is this what you were thinking of earlier?”

“I’ve been thinking about it since I first saw you,” Ben said.

“Most men see only my rank when they meet me.” A harsh twist of fingers. “They don’t want to fuck me on sight.”

Ben drew in a sharp breath. “I think you’d be surprised.”

“I don’t sleep with my subordinates.”

“But you will with me.”

“You work for the Order on contract,” said Hux. “You aren’t ranked. I can do whatever I want with you.”

Ben pushed back onto Hux’s hand. “Then give me another finger.”

Hux drew back, pausing, Ben assumed, to put more lubricant on his hand before filling him again, this time even more. Ben groaned at the stretch.

“You’re a filthy thing, aren’t you?” Hux said as he moved his hand. “Wanting me to fuck you from the outset. Wanting to do it here, of all places.”

“My first offer was for the bed,” said Ben.

“But you like this.”

Ben didn’t bother to deny it. “Yeah. And I’ll like it more when you’re inside me.”

“Do you think you’re ready?” Hux asked, spreading his fingers enough to make Ben’s jaw drop.

“Yes. Dammit, Hux, yes.”

“Then come here. Face me.”

Ben turned. Hux was splayed out in the chair, a flush spread all over his chest and neck. Even his cheeks were pinkened. His right hand glistened with lubricant. Casually, he lowered it to his cock, spreading it over himself.

“Sit,” he said.

Ben shuffled forward, uncertain how he was going to get down onto the chair without the use of his arms. Fortunately, Hux reached up to his waist to steady him, guiding him as he put one knee on the edge of the seat and then the other, until he was straddling Hux’s lap.

“Up,” Hux said, cupping Ben’s buttock. “Now come down. Slowly.”

Ben felt the head of Hux’s cock against him, an insistent pressure. He ground his teeth as Hux entered him, but forced his muscles to relax and allow the intrusion.

Hux’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes closed. He gave a soft curse as Ben took all of him. His fingers dug into Ben’s sides, holding him fast. Ben waited, letting both of them catch their breath. It wasn’t until Hux opened his eyes again that Ben dared to move.

He rose up with a roll of his hips, riding Hux’s full length before dropping down again. Hux’s long groan spurred him on.

He rode Hux fast and hard, though he would slow between bursts to enjoy the drag of Hux’s cock inside him. His own cock was trapped between their bodies, getting some friction but not as much as Ben needed.

“Touch me,” he panted as he slid down on Hux again. “I want to come while you’re inside me.”

“Greedy,” Hux admonished. Reaching up, he circled Ben’s nipples with his thumbs.

Ben arched back, pushing his chest into Hux’s hands. The sensation was electric, sending shocks through him. He was getting close; he just need the last few touches to send him over the edge.

“Please, Hux,” he said. “Please touch me.”

Hux tweaked his nipples harder, smiling. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Ben swore as soon as Hux’s fingers wrapped around his cock. His palm was still damp with lubricant, sliding against Ben and making him writhe. He thrust himself up into Hux’s grip, crushed between that hand and Hux’s cock seated inside him. His vision began to go white at the edges, tunneling until all he could see was Hux’s flushed face, his bitten lips.

“Come for me,” Hux said, and Ben was lost.

He came, hot against Hux’s chest. Pleasure shot along his spine in agonizing waves, blinding him temporarily. That intensified the feeling of Hux’s hands on his waist, dragging him up and down.

“Don’t stop, Ben,” he was saying, though his voice was far away. “Fuck, I need you to keep going. I’m so close. I’m—” His words twisted into a guttural cry. He thrust up into Ben a last time, his body going taut.

They spiraled down together, saying nothing as they recovered. Ben was covered in sweat and come, his hair falling loose from the bun. He wasn’t sure when Hux had pulled it free. The bruise on Hux’s collarbone was unexpected as well. Ben tried not to wince. Hux had said he didn’t like marks. Ben touched it with his forefinger.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Hux looked down, but then shrugged. “Neither of us were.”

Ben grinned lopsidedly, too exhausted for a proper smile. “No, I guess not.” Hux was going soft inside of him and the shower they had talked about before was sounding extremely appealing. “Will you untie me now?”

“Yes, of course,” Hux said. He reached around Ben’s back and undid the clasp of the belt. He unlooped it hastily and dropped it to the floor.

Ben rolled his wrists, stretching them out.

“It didn’t hurt you, did it?” Hux asked, taking one hand and examining it.

Ben shook his head. “I liked it.”

“So did I.” Hux pressed a kiss to the inside of Ben’s wrist. “You were very good for me, Ben.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Ben said.

Hux smiled. “Shall we go to the refresher?”

“Yeah.” Ben leaned in and kissed him. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Hux disappeared almost immediately after the _Falcon_ docked in the _Finalizer_ ’s hangar again. After he and Ben had soaped each other up and exchanged a few more fevered kisses in the refresher, they had returned to the cockpit to guide the ship out of hyperspace and rendezvous with the star destroyer.

“When will I see you again?” Ben had asked as Hux was about to disembark.

Hux gave him only, “Later, for a debriefing,” and was gone.

Ben waited around for nearly four hours. When he got tired of checking gauges and fuel line status, he went out to see if the other smugglers were aboard their own ships. He shared a drink with Uta Idkris, who was already itching to get out from under the First Order’s thumb. She said she had more work to do.

Ben didn’t have anything else lined up and was in no rush to leave. He wanted to see Hux. There was no way they were leaving it there after that kind of sex. Ben was sure he hadn’t had it that good in years. Frustrated, he finished his whiskey and set off to find someone who might know where Hux was.

He found a nervous-looking young man standing by the turbolift. He was a head shorter than Ben and turned out in full uniform.

“Hey,” Ben said, tapping him on the shoulder.

He jumped, letting out a little yelp. “C-can I help you?”

“I’m looking for General Hux. I need to see him.”

The young man swallowed. “Ah, I’m not certain where he is at the moment, sir, but I could comm him and try to find out.”

Ben rubbed his temple. “No, don’t do that. He could be in some important meeting or something. Doesn’t he have an office somewhere where I could wait for him?”

“He does,” said the officer, “but he doesn’t usually see anyone without an appointment.”

“I’m due for a briefing,” said Ben. It was mostly true.

The officer rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I suppose I can take you there.”

Ben clapped him on the shoulder. “Great. I’m Ben Solo, by the way. Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Mitaka, sir.”

They took the lift up to level fifteen. Ben watched the numbers tick by as they rode. When they stepped out, they were in a hallway lined with doors, each one the same as the next, save for the numbered panels at the sides. They went to 1518.

Mitaka paused for a moment to collect himself before pressing the buzzer on the panel. Ben didn’t expect to hear an answer, but it came, curt: “What is it?” Hux’s voice.

“General, sir,” said Mitaka, “there’s a Mister Solo to see you.”

A pause. Ben thought he heard a sigh. “Let him in.”

Mitaka stepped out of the way as the door slid open. Ben flashed him a grin as he strode into the office beyond.

It was a standard military space: clean lines and steel surfaces. Hux was seated behind a desk, working on a datapad. He tapped the screen once before setting it down.

“What exactly did you do to get the lieutenant to bring you up here?” he said.

“Asked nicely,” Ben replied. “That seems to work on you, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

Hux frowned. “What do you want?”

Ben sauntered toward him, thumbs hitched in his blaster belt, the one Hux had tied him up with. “You said you’d debrief me. You never showed up.”

“My apologies,” said Hux. “I’ve been busy with the cleanup from the mission. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Ben tapped his fingers on the durasteel desk. “Well, I do. I’ve got things to get back to if I’m done here,” he lied. “Other jobs.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Hux folded his hands, interlacing the fingers. He sat up straight, looking at Ben. “I won’t detain you, though I was hoping you might consider an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

“Contracting with the Order more often. We could use a man like you.”

Ben suppressed a rush of satisfaction. He had wanted exactly this. The First Order paid well and if this job was anything to go by, didn’t get their employees into too sticky of situations.

“Is that so?” he said, doing his best to remain coolly detached. “Would this be an exclusive deal or would I be able to take other jobs, too?”

“We wouldn’t need you all the time,” said Hux, “but you would have to be prepared to come to us when you’re summoned.”

“I don’t really work that way,” Ben said. It was true enough. He took jobs on his own schedule.

Hux pressed on. “The pay would be quite good.”

Ben pushed back: “I make good money doing what I’m doing.”

Hux pursed his lips, eyeing Ben suspiciously. “What else do you want, then?”

“Well,” said Ben, leaning across the desk. “Will I get to see you when I’m here?”

“Is that condition of your agreeing to do this?”

“Maybe.”

Hux sat back in his chair, but only to push it back and get to his feet. He looked Ben up and down, unabashed.  “I would be amenable to that.”

Ben wet his lips, glancing down at Hux’s mouth.. “Then I might be in.”

“Might?” said Hux, cocking a brow.

“I’d like a sample of what I’m getting before I end negotiations completely,” Ben said, grinning.

Hux gave him a haughty look. “I should think that’s what you had earlier aboard your ship. Or did that not satisfy you?”

“Not even close,” Ben growled.

Hux came around the desk in measured paces, until he was standing across from Ben. “Say you’ll work for me and I’ll give you what you want.”

Ben grabbed him around the waist, pulling him close. “I want a lot of things.”

“I know,” said Hux as he touched Ben’s neck, where he had left a bruise. “You said something about me putting you on your back, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”


End file.
